Page 27 of Restore Me

“A relaxing evening with my two favorite girls sounds like a dream.” Dad smiles at me over Mom’s shoulder. He truly does look pleased by the prospect of spending the evening with us, even though I’m sure he has a ton of work he could be getting done right now. I smile back, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as it feels.

“Yeah, sounds amazing.”

“Yes, it’s great we can have this time together.” Mom chimes in, smiling as she picks up her phone and taps out of a quick message—probably letting her minions know they have to suffer through a fabulous dinner without Her Royal Highness to tell them what to think, do and say.

Dad opens up the refrigerator and starts rummaging around. “Are we still good with steaks on the grill? Bean, you and Mom can rustle up a salad and some baked potatoes. It’ll be just like old times.”

Before we can answer, he spins around and places a pack of rib-eyes on the island. He looks over at me and grins like a Cheshire cat, which makes my heart swell in my chest with love for him. “That sounds awesome, Daddy.”

It takes us less than an hour to get dinner done, and by us, I mean me and Dad. Mom conveniently got a call that needed her immediate attention just as the steaks hit the grill, leaving me to prepare all the sides on my own. With anyone else, I would have been annoyed, but when she floated out of the kitchen and up the stairs, I was only relieved I didn’t have to spend thirty minutes listening to her complain about having to cancel her dinner plans.

I was hoping she wouldn’t come back down at all, but that ship sails away when she comes waltzing onto the patio just as Dad is setting the steaks on the table. She looks stylish and refreshed in a cream wrap dress and a pair of designer sandals. Her long curls flow over her shoulders and down her back, nearly hitting her hip.

“Oh, dinner’s done already?” She takes a seat next to my dad, who’s still in his work clothes sans tie, and places a napkin in her lap. “I didn’t think my call was going to run that long. Ella wanted to know if I was going to be able to make lunch tomorrow. I assured her I would unless Sloane comes over to see us again.”

Her eyes are on me, waiting for me to react, but I don’t give her the satisfaction. She wants to goad me into a fight, and I’m not in the mood. “I have plans with Mal tomorrow, so your lunch with Ella should be safe.”

I take a sip of my wine—a crisp, sweet Zinfandel Dad pulled out of the cellar while the steaks were resting—and shoot her a sickeningly sweet smile. This time, I hope it looks as fake as it feels.

“How’s work going, sweetie?” Dad asks, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he cuts and plates our steak.

“It’s good. All of our projects are actually on schedule.” I shift in my seat, turning my body towards the one person at the table who cares about what I’m saying. “I forgot to tell you, James hired another contractor, so the hotel renovation will be done on time.”

I don’t mention Dominic’s name since I can’t say it without the knot in my stomach clenching tight. Anxious guilt wrapping around my intestines and turning them black. Like the pools of darkness that swallowed me whole when he looked at me.

“James Robinson? I think we know his parents. Isn’t that Rachel and John’s son, Mark?” I bristle at the interruption, but I’m hardly surprised. My mother always finds a way to bring the conversation back around to her.

My dad nods. “Yes, John and I play golf together at the club. James is their oldest son.”

“Interesting. And you’re working with him, Sloane?”

For the first time today, or probably in my whole life, my mother looks interested in what I have to say and I haven’t the slightest idea why. I clear my throat to hide my annoyance. “James and I have worked on several projects together, Mom.”

“Must have been a relief to have a new contractor come in so quickly.” Dad hands me my plate, which is now almost overflowing with food. He’s even gone to the trouble of dressing my baked potato just the way I like it. I smile over at him and he pinches my cheek, love shining in his eyes.

“Yes, that’s amazing.” Mom drawls, her hazel eyes dancing with excitement that doesn’t make sense to me until she continues. “Sloane, please tell me you’re seeing James outside of work as well. In a more personal manner. ”

I nearly choke on my wine. Leave it to her to suggest I sleep with a client based solely on the fact his parents are members of the same country club. It doesn’t help that James was suggesting the same thing just a few hours ago.

“No, Mom. I’m not seeing him in a more personal manner. James is just a client.”

She takes a dainty bite of her steak. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! The Robinson’s are a very powerful family, and as the oldest son, James stands to inherit John’s CEO title when he retires in a few years. You would be a fool not to align yourself with someone like him.”

So that’s why she’s so interested in this conversation.

I set my fork down and level her with a glare. “My relationship with James is, and will continue to be, strictly professional. Why can’t you just be proud of your daughter for being a talented designer who’s known for her ability and professionalism?”

“Professionalism won’t get you a husband, dear. And neither will shouting at the dinner table.”

My mouth drops open. Did she seriously just say that to me? I look over to my dad for backup, but he’s just sitting there looking disappointed that his relaxing evening with his girls is about to turn into a WWE smackdown.

I stand up from my seat, nearly knocking over my chair with the abrupt movement. My hands are balled into fists at my side, but I manage to speak evenly. “I had a husband, Mother, or did you forget attending your son-in-law’s funeral? Maybe it’s all a blur for you, lost in a sea of the pointless dinners and charity events you use to fill up your empty life?”

“Sloane.” My dad places a hand on my arm, silently asking me to back down. As always, he’s focusing on the wrong person. I didn’t start this fight and I won’t apologize for participating in it.

My mother looks up at me, taking in the anger that’s flowing off of me with sick pleasure. She lifts her wine glass to her mouth and takes a long, victorious sip before addressing me. “I remember Eric’s funeral well. I’ll never forget the spectacle you made of yourself, shouting and crying at the top of your lungs like the world had ended—embarrassing everyone there. I also remember that it was four years ago, which means you’ve had more than enough time to put away your pity party decorations and move on with your life. Hopefully this time, you’ll choose someone in your league.”

Several emotions run through me at once. Shock. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. They all swirl around inside of me, taking a hold of the knot already there, as I stare at her. Waiting for something, anything to happen. I know she won’t take it back. She never apologizes because she never says anything she doesn’t mean. And somehow knowing she really believes all of the things she just said to her own daughter makes it so much worse. The world seems to stop as we stare at each other—even the cicadas have stopped singing—and I don’t know how much time goes by before my dad breaks the silence.

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